Left 4 Dead 2: Before It Was Too Late
by hidden-in-a-tree
Summary: It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true, but sometimes the ending isn't what one expects.  Sometimes the ending is happy … and sometimes it isn't. Oneshot. Angst/Fluff/Romance/Tragedy. Nick/Ellis.  Slash.  Nick's POV.


**Author's Note: **I started out thinking that this would be a happy fic. =\ Har.

Oh, and just thought I'd mention that I might be writing some Sherlock Holmes/Dr Watson sometime soon. … cutest bromance ever?

Oneshot. Angst/Fluff/Romance/Tragedy. Nick/Ellis. Slash. Nick's POV.

… did I actually say "slash"? I never actually get them together … but heh. =3 Nah, jk, it isn't Ellis and Nick together. It's a threesome with Coach. JOKING. I don't want to burn out anyone's inner eye … or do I?

**Disclaimer: **The song mentioned is _Bless the Broken Road_ by Rascal Flatts. I also don't own any of the characters mentioned … unfortunately.

**Acknowledgements: **Thanks to Amanda for reading this! And, as always, thanks to Sean, my wonderful boyfriend … even though he isn't a fan of Nick/Ellis, he still reads this stuff.

**Summary: **It's all part of a grander plan that is coming true, but sometimes the ending isn't what one expects. Sometimes the ending is happy … and sometimes it isn't.

**Before It Was Too Late**

God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you –

The wind blew softly across Nick's burning cheeks. Even though he knew it wouldn't give him an accurate response, he raised his cool hand and put the back of it against his forehead. He slowly drew it away and sighed heavily, letting his eyelids drop down. At least there was a breeze that lifted his sweaty, much too long locks off of his face. As he stood, letting the evening wash over him, he could hear murmuring voices down the stairs that led to the safe house. After the others had barricaded the door, he'd escaped to the roof; he couldn't stand the forced silence after the accusatory yelling.

He took a few more steps toward the edge, looking down at the empty streets. Some trash blew by in the wind, and he could hear far away, almost as if it was an afterthought of the near nighttime, the howl of an infected.

He shivered violently. He wished with all his might that he was healthy, that he was going to be okay. Unfortunately, he couldn't reassure himself. The survivors had little water as it was, and with all the vomiting and diarrhea he'd been doing and having, he couldn't afford to take more water than any of the others despite the fact that he was dangerously dehydrated. He didn't have a problem with sneaking the water off and drinking it if there was some left over, but it was more the fact that the others would willingly give up theirs for him.

It was a new feeling – that of being needed, included, loved even. That of being cared about. He'd never admit it, not to anyone, but he liked that feeling. It had gone straight to his heart and unlatched the lock that was hiding him away from everyone, from everything. No matter how hard he tried sometimes, he knew he'd never stop caring about the other survivors. They were vital to him on a primitive level, but they also fuelled him emotionally. They kept him from actively wishing for death, from giving up. And it didn't matter what kind of stupid move he'd make, they'd never give up on him either. As long as the others were living, they'd have his back. He didn't guess about it – he knew.

Earlier that day, Nick had been lagging behind. He'd tried to keep up, but he couldn't. His legs were unbearably heavy, his head pounding with every footstep, every breath, and the sunlight was making him squint, which didn't help his head. His bowels were also grumbling, and he was worried he was going to shit his pants. His throat was perilously dry, making his tongue swollen, and he couldn't even call out to tell the others to slow up.

That's when the Hunter had pounced. The thick, dehydrated blood pounding in his ears had blocked out its shriek as it landed just behind him; it swiped at his foot, making him fall flat on his face. He landed on his gun, accidentally pulling the trigger as it fired off to his right.

He tried to scream, but he couldn't.

The Hunter's claws shredded his ankle as it pulled him closer, and Nick couldn't do a damn thing. He vainly tried to fend off the infected with the butt end of his rifle, but he was too slow, too weak. It was a futile effort.

Even though the other survivors knew that he was only a burden, they came back. They rescued him.

Coach had given him a piggy-back into the safe house because Nick couldn't walk anymore, and once he'd been set on the ground, Coach started to yell. His and Rochelle's voices intermingled –

"_Why didn't you tell us?"_

"_We would've waited!"_

"_Nick, you could've _died_!"_

Ellis had stayed silent, watching Nick try to catch his breath, try to regain feeling in his deadened limbs. Once he'd begun to feel better – if that was possible – he'd wandered upstairs to have some fresh air. He didn't want to make the safe house smell with his sickly secretions. It wasn't the other survivors' faults that he was ill; he didn't want to make this more difficult for them.

He knew he was going to die.

"Nick?"

He turned away from the almost set sun and found himself looking into Ellis' face, which was red from the dying rays of light. He licked his parched lips, hoped he wouldn't cough, and said, "Yeah?"

Ellis rubbed the left side of his face absentmindedly as he stared at the older man. He swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbed. He started to say something, and then he shrugged helplessly.

Nick blinked. He waited.

Finally the twenty-three year old asked softly, "Are you okay?"

Nick grinned and turned back to the sunset. It was a bloody scene tinged with orange and yellow which gave way to violet as the night came on. By his reckoning, it was nearly nine, possibly eight-thirty. At the rate his body was degenerating, would he be around to see another sunset? Would he even be alive to greet the morning?

"Nick?" Ellis said his name quietly, stepping up beside him, looking at him over his left shoulder.

Nick was still grinning, but he raised his eyebrows and replied, "I don't know what to tell you."

"I want t'hear you say it."

"Say what?" Nick asked, his heavy eyebrows contracting. His stomach grumbled again, and he willed himself not to do anything embarrassing. It could wait until the conversation was over, couldn't it?

Ellis didn't answer.

Nick sighed and felt his jaw tremble. He hated lying to Ellis. "I'll be fine." He turned just in time to see the little sliver of light fall beyond the horizon, throwing the town they were in into a rich, velvety darkness. The coolness felt great on his skin; it made him feel a little better.

"That's not what I wanted t'hear."

"What?"

Ellis exhaled forcefully through his long nose and Nick glanced over at the younger man and caught him clenching his jaw. Ellis stared back, his blue eyes dark and unreadable in the absence of sunlight.

"That wasn't what I was askin' you t'say."

"Then what –"

Ellis threw his head back, looking up at the sky. The stars were abundant that night, sparkling down coldly on the world. "Rochelle's sayin' you're dyin'. Coach is too. I need you t'say it. I need to hear it from you. I don' want t'hear you lie. Please."

"I'm dying."

The twenty-three year old didn't move; he stood stock-still, but Nick saw a tear roll down the left side of his cheek, toward his ear.

"I'm not sorry, though."

Ellis brought his chin down to its normal level and he shifted his body to look directly into Nick's eyes. They were about a foot apart, and the older man could clearly see the tears flowing from his friend's eyes. "What d'you mean?" Ellis questioned gruffly, his lips quivering slightly.

"I –"

" 'Cause I'm sorry t'hear you say tha', Nick," Ellis whispered hoarsely, "I wish I – I wish it weren't happenin' – I can' live without you –" but before he could say anymore, he broke down completely, his shoulders heaving, his face scrunched up, and his hands crossed tightly across his slender chest. He was gasping for breath as he sobbed.

"I'm not sorry," Nick continued, feeling his own self-control start to waver. "I'm happy."

In-between breaths, Ellis asked, "How the 'ell is tha' possible? You're fuckin' dyin'!"

The older man took a deep breath, glanced heaven-ward, and said, "I'm happy because I had the chance to meet you."

Ellis abruptly stopped sobbing in mid-cry. "Huh?"

Nick swallowed painfully, his swollen throat seeming to grow in size. He knew he was treading on thin ice; he'd never even breached the subject of feelings with Ellis. He'd always had this idea – this indescribable, amazing, terrifying idea that maybe, just maybe Ellis –

"Even though the rest of my life is going to be forfeited soon, meeting you a few weeks ago makes up for it entirely."

Ellis stared, his eyes wide, his mouth hanging open. In the silence, Nick could hear some of the tears hit the tar of the roof. Maybe he'd been wrong. Even if he'd missed the mark wholly, he wouldn't have to live with the repercussions for long. He was severely dehydrated – it was only a matter of time before nature took its course. He'd be just another corpse rotting in a sewage drain sooner rather than later.

"Ellis, man, I probably – I should've … God," Nick trailed off, muttering to himself. He'd fucked up royally, he knew that for sure. Ellis still hadn't moved – had he even blinked? – and Nick figured he owed more of an explanation, anything to break the horrendously awkward silence.

"I, uh. I figured – I guess I got the wrong signals from you. I don't know how, I dunno, I guess I just did. I'm sorry. I wish I hadn't said anything," Nick said in a rush, his head pounding worse than ever. His stress level was way off the charts, and he knew he was going to vomit very soon. For the first time, he wished that his body would hurry up and die already.

Ellis began to laugh weakly, the tears flowing freely again down his pale cheeks. He pushed his tow truck hat further up on his head as he said, "I was wonderin' when you'd say somethin'." He closed the gap between them, his nose inches from Nick's. "Don' y'think tha' me sayin' tha' I can't live without you means tha' I –"

"– love you," Nick finished. He smiled, his cracked lips splitting slightly. He knew he looked horrible, with his dry, patchy skin and his bleeding lips, but Ellis smiled gently back all the same.

The next morning, when Ellis woke up, Nick was gone. No one knew where he'd vanished to, but they all knew that searching for him was useless. He'd gone off to die, much like an animal does when it knows its time has come. They didn't leave the safe house that day, each person speaking little and avoiding eye contact.

Ellis spent his time on the rooftop, sobbing to himself. He tried to keep an eye open on the roads, just in case Nick came back. Just in case the illness hadn't been serious, that he'd actually be fine and healthy again. Ellis didn't hold out any hope, though. He knew that Nick was gone. Dead.

Long after he felt like he couldn't cry anymore, that there was no more fluid in his body, Rochelle came up the stairs and gave him a dirty piece of paper without a word. There were tear stains on her face. She didn't wait for him to open it before going back into the safe house.

In the late afternoon sun, he slowly opened it. It read:

_Ellis –_

_I don't really have to explain anything to you. I'm sure you know where I've gone and why. I didn't want you or Ro or Coach to see me suffer anymore. It pained you three more than it did me. So if I'm not telling you why I'm no longer with you, then there must be another reason I've written to you, right? _

_I wanted to say thank you for the happiness you put into my life. I wanted to tell you to keep going, even when all you want to do is lie down and die, 'cause I'm sure that day will come for you sometime soon. In a Goddamn zombie apocalypse 'n' shit, how can it not? I wanted to tell you to take care of Ro and Coach. I wanted to tell you to take care of yourself, and maybe I'll see you again someday. You never know, right? Oh, and I wanted to tell you to keep living life like you do – please, please don't hide yourself away from the world because I'm gone. I know you said you couldn't live without me – and I for you – but you'll have to. You don't have another choice. Suicide isn't an option for you, and you know it. _

_I gotta go soon, so I'll say one last thing – there's this line in this song, I can't remember the name, but it goes something like, God blessed the broken road that led me straight to you. I can't say it any better than that._

_Yours always,_

_Nick_


End file.
